Dirty Mind
by Vanilla Tiger
Summary: The professor dies. Scott doesn't deal. Darkfic.


Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any of the characters. For which they are probably quite glad.  
  
Warning: Despite the title this is not a PWP. It contains character death (from the very first sentence), highly unstable Scott, disturbing topic matter including mention of teenage prostitution, implied Scott/Jean and brief mention of slash (Kurt/Pietro) In other words, extremely dark. If you are easily traumatised, run now.  
  
Dirty Mind  
  
by Vanilla Tiger  
  
In his opinion, Scott took the professor's death better than most people did, better than most people thought he did.  
  
Kitty blew up at him for not shedding a tear. So he calmly explained that he couldn't cry as his mutation vaporised the tears before they left his eyes. He hadn't actually cried since the death of his parents. At least, that's what he said.  
  
//Tears won't help you here, little boy.//  
  
He'd been strong. Like always, he did what was necessary and tried not to care that the others thought him unfeeling. Someone had to be strong, especially during those late night sessions when Logan was off getting drunk in some seedy bar and Storm didn't want to burden any of the children with her grief. He'd been there. A rock, waiting to absorb their pain. He didn't talk to anyone about it. The only person to whom he could have dreamt of exposing such a vulnerable part was dead. But still he coped.  
  
It wasn't until a few months later that the cracks began to show. Generally, the others had stopped worrying about him. After Kurt had come out, relations between Scott and the German boy had been a trifle strained, but still friendly. Scott was obviously uncomfortable with the situation, but apparently no more so than Evan. Besides, Jean was positive that all they needed was a little time.  
  
// A long time. It'll be a long, long time before anyone thinks of looking for you.//  
  
Still he coped, as well as he could without the professor to turn to. It wasn't that the others weren't willing for him to turn to them, just that he wasn't willing to burden (pollute) them. They needed a leader, someone strong, trustworthy, reliable. Coping without the professor was hard enough without Scott bulldozing their faith him. To be any good to his team, a leader has to have respect. And who could respect an ex-whore?  
  
So he kept silent, remained reserved and more or less stable. Everything would have been OK. Then he walked in on them – Kurt and Pietro – making out on the couch. Scott raced out and threw up in the bathroom.  
  
// You ever done this before, kid? You ever had someone touch you like this?//  
  
As the professor's first student, Scott had picked up the knack of guarding his mind. He was a blank slate to all but the most determined telepath, and Jean saw no reason to be determined. Scott seemed fine enough. For once he rejoiced in her inattention. The thought of this angel being confronted with the dirty realities of his past life sickened him.  
  
Jean was beautiful; she was good; she was pure. She was everything he wanted and could never have. He was a stupid orphan boy who had spent his childhood being rejected. A lonely life in a run-down orphanage had led to a lonely life on the streets. To survive he had had to sell everything he could, including himself. The others didn't deserve to have this knowledge forced upon them. They didn't deserve to have to deal with him.  
  
// You're a dirty little freak, and that's all you'll ever be.//  
  
Rogue was the one he'd most feared suspecting something, and therefore was the first to do so. With her feather-light glimpses of his memory, she already knew he was hiding tragedy in his past. Scott took special care to ensure that she did not find any further information. More than was now usual he avoided her touch, even through layers of fabric. She was hurt but blamed herself, a tendency of all the X-Men.  
  
He'd batted away all their attempts to talk about things. He was their leader. He had to keep his emotions in control or he would be letting the team down. Worse, he would be letting the professor down. The man to whom he owed so much. Scott couldn't understand why the professor had trusted him, but he was willing to devote the rest of his life to paying the dead man back. The others, of course, knew none of this so Rogue began subtly questioning his classmates, trying to find clues to understanding what was going on behind the visor.  
  
// You're useless. Who'd ever want you?//  
  
Alex called. He was considering quitting surfing and coming over to Bayville. Unspoken reason: Scott. His brother reassured him of his well- being and convinced the blond that there was no need. He couldn't risk the chance that he would contaminate the younger boy.  
  
After a long shower (his third that day) Scott sat down on his bed, staring at a picture of Alex. Truly the golden boy in every way. The bespectacled boy tried to summon up some the anger, resentment or envy that the professor had once assured him were natural feelings for someone in his situation. In reality the only time Scott now felt guilt over his brother was in their reunion. Surely it would have been much better if Alex could have continued his sun-kissed life free of Scott's interference. He'd had a chance, and look how well he'd adapted to his loving adoptive family, friends, normality…until Scott came along again and screwed everything up. Perhaps the plane crash had been a blessing in disguise.  
  
//I'm sorry but the rest of your family…they…they didn't make it.//  
  
Of all the people to walk in on him it had had to be Kitty. He'd given up his frequent showering. His extensive Danger Room sessions (have to be worthy, have to make the professor proud) had begun to draw notice, and even the sweat they raised didn't cover the amount of time he spent in the bathroom. More importantly, it didn't seem be making any difference any more. No matter how hard he scrubbed, he couldn't seem to get clean. Then he'd had an idea.  
  
The others were definitely whispering about him by now and had sent Kitty (God knows why her) to check on him. Lost in the contemplation of his handiwork, Scott hadn't heard her knock. So she'd phased through the heavy locked door, and screamed.  
  
Scott lay on the bed, his arms scraped raw. Bloodstained sandpaper littered the floor. He looked up at the intruder plaintively, "I just wanted to get rid of the dirt."  
  
//There's no escape from me, boy. You're mine.//  
  
This he couldn't cover up. Ororo came to him, her face pained and puzzled, but he ignored her. He ignored all of them, clamping his hands over his ears in a desperate attempt to block out their voices. Logan's anger, Kitty's concern, Evan's incomprehension, Rogue's attempted empathy, it all washed over him like so many tears. Jean tried to probe his mind, but he knew how to counter that so all she got from him were fragments of half- remembered nursery rhymes. He could always sense when she was there, that's when he focused all his attention on trying to recall the stories his mother used to tell him, when he was innocent and still had hope.  
  
When Rogue tried to touch him skin to skin – a final attempt by the others to understand what was going on in his mind – Scott snapped. He pushed her away with all the violence he could muster and made a clumsy bid for freedom. He had to run. He had to get away. He didn't belong here, didn't deserve friendship or family. He had to leave before he managed to ruin everything (again).  
  
He managed to evade Logan's grabs and dashed down the corridor. He'd almost made it to his car and escape when he spotted the X-Men lined up against him, not in uniform but nevertheless in battle formation. "We don't want to have to hurt you Scott!" Kurt cried, followed by some meaningless expressions of concern from the others. The words rattled through his mind.  
  
//I don't want to have to hurt you.//  
  
Almost choked by panic, wild-animal fear taking over, he blasted near (at) them randomly. The X-men jumped. They hadn't expected their Scott to attack. Taking advantage of the situation, he sped to his car and started the ignition. His deadly vision destroyed the cast-iron gates and he drove away. He was out of sight by the time they'd even realised what had happened.  
  
//Screwed up again, didn't ya!//  
  
Eventually he began to run out of gas. Scott stopped the car where it was. Somehow he'd ended up on a cliff overlooking the ocean. He didn't know what to do. No, he didn't want to do anything. Here, alone, he felt safe. He couldn't hurt anyone and no-one could hurt him. For once he decided to forget about the future, the past and all the other shit that troubled him. He wandered slowly up to the cliff edge and gazed at the ocean. The dying rays of the sun covered it in sparkling gold. It looked so beautiful, so clean. Scott knew that in reality it was as dirty as him but he'd had enough of reality. Dreams and fantasies would hide him from the darkness.  
  
It looked so pure, so uncorrupted. Scott wanted to be that clean. He imagined floating in the ocean, free from any worries and utterly absolved. The strangest feeling came over him – that the salt waters would redeem him, that the sea would wash all his sins away.  
  
So he jumped in.  
  
fin 


End file.
